Faded Scars
by enchantedem7
Summary: As Bucky Barnes unlocks the mysteries of his bloody past, he unearths the Winter Soldier's dirty little secret. What happens when a tempestuous history meets the calm present? Slight AU: Avengers reconcile. Full summary inside. Canon pairings included.
1. Mystery Magic

**Full Summary:**

 ** _Bucky weaves back into the modern world, adjusting well with the Avengers. But his forgotten memories continue chase him. As he unlocks the mysteries of his bloody past, he unearths the Winter Soldier's dirty little secret. What happens when a tempestuous history meets the calm present? Slight AU: Avengers reconcile. No slash (Brotp Steve/Bucky and Sam). Eventual WinterWidow, hints of (one-sided) WinterWitch and other canon pairings._**

* * *

❝ **It's a distant memory that won't leave.** ❞

The extraction mission, lead by Steve, was successful. His team had consisted of Sharon, Bucky, Sam and Wanda. SHIELD intelligence reported that a selection of biochemical engineering scientists were under threat; held captive by the cynical organisation AIM (Advanced Idea Mechanics). After they were rumoured to have produced a biological weapon called Extremis many years ago, SHIELD kept a close watch on their activities. The mission was simple, Bucky snorted mockingly at how easy it was. It was laughable for a master assassin and soldier with decades of training in the field of espionage. Sharon hacked the security mainframe and network, briefly disabling the cameras, and later on joined Steve and Wanda in releasing the scientists. Sam and Bucky were allocated outside. With his trusty Redwing, Sam was perched atop of the building, while Bucky held his gun close, vigilantly hidden in the surroundings further away. His body tensed in anticipation, alert to the smallest murmur. He was enough back-up if AIM's security was unexpectedly triggered soon.

Just as the thought passed him, loud alarm bells reverberated. Instantaneously his senses sharpened and instinct kicked in. Sam took out the guards from above. As Bucky aimed and shot guards with a ruthless efficiency, it was then he identified Steve and Sharon escaping with the anxious scientists in the midst of the chaos. Wanda was further upfront, creating a large protective shield that deflected numerous bullets. Bucky's face lit up in awe. But then he quickly reverted back to normal as he focussed on the job. Needless to say, the guards had zero chance. Along with the offensive above, their power in numbers proved useless to the Avengers' swift strategy. _And that weird... magic,_ Bucky added inwardly, as clouds of red dust asphyxiated many opponents simultaneously. It really was fascinating; spellbinding.

The managed to reach the undercover van (much better than the unbelievably tiny yellow Beetle in Bucky's opinion): it looked like a regular, unassuming vehicle, except the interior was entirely Stark tech worth thousands. Bucky and Sam met up with the rest after they surpassed a safe distance from the enemy territory. As Sharon contacted SHIELD in the car, outside the scientists babbled on about their immense gratitude. Steve asked them about their interrogation by AIM, as Sam smiled pleasingly to himself, without a doubt mentally high-fiving himself. Wanda grinned widely at their triumph, saying she was glad to have helped.

But rather than paying attention to the rescued scientists, Bucky scrutinized her, unable to forget the image of scarlet smoke. He couldn't help but ponder over how she managed to possess such a unique talent. When Sharon finally received the co-ordinates for the location of the covert SHIELD quinjet, they settled back inside and headed for the road again. Bucky couldn't wait to get back to New York. He would ask her then, but it wasn't until many hours later they were alone in the Avengers' lounge. After (begrudging) small talk, the aching question finally slipped out.

"So how did you get your powers?" Bucky asked, unable to hide his curiosity any longer. He'd remember seeing flares of red spark that could levitate, destroy and control what came in contact with it. It was the kind of power organisations like Hydra would love to hold in their fist. To manipulate that sort of power for their own agenda. Cause destruction, it was dangerous. But mesmerising. Like a fantasy book he read a while back in Romania about a Romani Jewish lady who was born with a similar ability due to a rare genetic mutation. "Where you...born with it?" His eyebrows slightly scrunched up together in confusion. He was sure the book was fiction.

"No, I was not," Wanda gulped nervously, feigning a bright smile at his perplexed expression.

His usual guarded eyes were vibrantly inquisitive. It made him look years younger, and she could almost see the handsome, carefree soldier he looked like in old photos peeking out. Wanda respected Bucky for what he had gone through, and admired his courage. And internally reprimanded herself when caught herself staring to long at him when he smiled. There was something about it Wanda liked. She could see more physical resemblance to his former self every day. It was hard not to confess that.

Her eyes darted towards her hands as he flashed her an prolonged expectant look, clearly wanting more detail. She could feel his childish curiosity morph into apprehensive scepticism. Secretly she knew that if she didn't give him a satisfied answer, he'd ask somebody else. Or worse, somehow find her file. He was an expert spy as well as a super-soldier after all. The file probably showed what kind of _monster_ she was. She scoffed internally.

"My family were killed a long time ago," she started, staring at her black nails, "my brother and I wanted justice for them. To take revenge on the person responsible. And a man offered to help. To make us stronger and we agreed."

That instant Bucky's muscles became rigid, his eyes lost their vibrancy and became darker. He knew what "stronger" entailed. Foreboding thoughts entered his mind as he clenched his jaw. "You let him experiment on you." There was no emotion in his statement. Wanda looked at him hastily. It was impossible to decipher his facial features.

"Yes," she conceded, unmindful to his past. There was no reason to lie when there was a whole document written about it. "It was a mistake, I understand now. We shouldn't have trusted Hydra-"

"Hydra?" He injected immediately and loudly, his mouth agape in incredulity. "You let them experiment on you?" He couldn't comprehend how someone was willing to cooperate with Hydra's procedures. Out of everyone.

Regret once again washed over her, "I didn't-"

"-You let Hydra experiment on you so you could kill the man. You did it for vengeance," he said robotically and she flinched. "Did you? Did you eventually kill him?"

"No," she let out a shaky breath. "After the Ultron incident I could not kill Tony, nor do I want to any more. He's a friend now. There's no hatred." She may have once despised him so much that if fuelled her every vein with a boiling anger, but things change and he had done so much for her to rectify for his mistake.

Bucky remembered seeing news headlines plastered everywhere during his hiding in Bucharest when Sokovia was in peril. An artificially intelligent robot had planned to destroy humanity, with the Earth's Mighty Avengers as the only source of hope to end it. It was also the first he saw Steve again since he left him unconscious near the Potomac in DC. "You teamed up with Hydra because you wanted to kill Stark." He muttered, unable to hide his disgust.

"I did not 'team' with them," she retorted heatedly, "Tony Stark was one of the world's biggest weapons manufacturer and contractor before an avenger, you may not have known that fact!"

Bucky stared at her evenly, "I do know. Steve told me. He told me about everyone. Except you," he said deathly quiet. "I get it now."

She exhaled in disbelief as tears formed in her eyes. She couldn't conjure the ability to defend herself properly, she knew it was her fault. She couldn't justify her actions, but she could justify the emotions that controlled her then. This was not the way she wanted to explain her story to him. His reaction injected another dose of guilt inside her. "It was a mistake, " she repeated weakly.

"We all make mistakes," he replied, though his sturdy posture and steely expression did not change at all, "But if I was ever, _ever_ given a choice, I would have had the damn common sense not to go to some fucking Nazis," he spat, his eyes blazing ominously.

Hydra robbed him of his identity, programmed, dehumanised and tortured to the point where reading his own biography felt like he was studying someone else. Not him. He didn't once have the miraculous opportunity to have a choice to leave. He tried sometimes, to run away. To find freedom. He was good at hiding. But they would always ultimately capture him and reprimand him with electrocution. He could vaguely remember wishing he was dead instead of enduring the countless hours the piercing screams ripped through his dry throat. The searing agony that enveloped his entire being as hot electricity shot through his head relentlessly, causing every nerve to frazzle in despicable torment. The revolting stench of his own sweat, which drenched his hair and every inch of his skin, forced his stomach to lurch sporadically, desperately making him want to vomit. And just as dizziness and fatigue overtook him, another brand-new surge of electricity violently shook his entire form, draining his energy to resist the anguish. He was reduced to an unceremonious heap of muscle and bones, convulsing from the shocks. And repeat. Again. And again. And again.

It was baffling for Bucky to discover a person who _wanted_ to be experimented on. By Hydra for personal revenge. His bewilderment intensified as his brain failed to fathom the logic. Poorly buried resentment slowly rose to the surface as he glared at the girl before him.

A figure materialised through the wall but both were still, unmoving like statues. The tension in the air was thick and palpable. Wanda's meek aura was overpowered by Bucky's seething ferocity. And that didn't go unnoticed by Vision. He hoped he could brush off his concern as paranoia when he sensed a sudden manifestation of imbalance in the air all of a sudden."Is everything okay?" He enunciated each word clear and slow deliberately, glancing worryingly between the two. Bucky's stony face was impassive, but he recognised the hidden rage. Wanda was on the brink of crying and it automatically made him defensive and disturbed by the situation.

"What happened?" he cut brusquely, annoyance creeping in his tone. His question once again dissipated in the room. Surely Bucky had not tried to attack Wanda. She was far more powerful than him. She was on par with himself, and Vision was one of the strongest avenger. Certainly it would be absurd to do so. He would have lost easily. No, this was something else. A long pause stretched across the room.

"Nothing Vis," she lied, despite already knowing it was futile. She roughly wiped her eyes and attempted a small smile, but failed.

Bucky, on the other hand, marched out the door, not even bothering to answer Vision. His rage increased the longer he stayed in the small room. His mind became a swirling storm of frustration, thoughts became black, but he wouldn't let his rage control him. It suffocated him. He needed space, fresh air and a healthy outlet.

His legs came to a sudden halt.

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 **No beta, all mistakes are mine. Me gusta el evalucion, Gracias mucho.**


	2. Melancholic Memories

❝ **You know who I used to be.** ❞

Bucky, on the other hand, marched out the door, not even bothering to answer Vision. His rage increased the longer he stayed in the small room. His mind became a swirling storm of frustration, thoughts became black, but he wouldn't let his rage control him. It suffocated him. He needed space, fresh air and a healthy outlet. He stopped abruptly, realising belatedly his feet lead him to the newly renovated training room.

It was empty. He observed the training equipment; this would be the ideal place to vent out pent-up anger. The massive windows let in golden light, spreading across the whole room, creating a tranquil ambiance that already began to calm his frantic emotions. The facility included a new shooting range, for various guns and arrows, a boxing ring and a fighting area, and an entire area dedicated to weight training. A particularly new feature was a virtually simulated fight that made you feel like you were in a real fight. It refined and improved an individual's proficiency through hypothetical battles. That was Stark's invention. Modern technology never ceased to amaze Bucky.

He strode towards the shooting range and picked up a gun. The feel of the metal against his skin was comforting in some strange way. Just as he was about to unleash hell, sounds of punching and light panting echoed in the spacious room. Temporarily distracted, he silently searched for the origin of the sound.

Someone was jabbing viciously at the punching bag, and as he peered his head, he saw a flash of red hair. Natasha punched again and again. Her fiery hair was tied in a sleek pony tail, swinging side to side as she beat up the bag with polished throws. He watched, half assessing her, half impressed at her consistency and precision. Sweat glistened lightly on her skin as her gaze remained steadily on the punch bag. When he boxed, Bucky didn't use an average punching bag- it would have effortlessly been flung across the room, mechanical arm or not. Absent-mindedly, he wondered how long she had been hitting it. And she seemed furious too.

"I'm used to something watching me," she suddenly spoke, breaking the stillness between them. "Normally it's FRIDAY." She stopped and held the bag still. "Any specific reason you're spying on me, Barnes?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow playfully. Slowly leaned beside the bag, resting. Confusion invaded his expression for a split second as her voice yanked him back to reality.

"You're good," he mused, slightly irked by how quickly he delved into his thoughts that he became oblivious to her awareness. How long was he watching her? He seldom verbally acknowledged someone's prowess, it was a long time since he complimented a person's set of skills. Bucky knew his adjective was a gross understatement; Steve told him she was a notorious spy who also used to work for the Russians, until she defected to SHIELD. And now she was one of SHIELD's best agents. He didn't say too much about her, Bucky presumed she preferred her past to remain unknown. He could emphathise with that.

"Good?" She said dubiously, examining whether he was being serious or not. She threw him an unconvinced look. That was the most unenthusiastic analysis she had received.

"So what did the bag do to you?" He asked jokingly, changing the topic. "You look pretty mad."

"Actually," she sighed, "Clint ate the last double chocolate chip cookie even though I warned him not to. I think he was getting back at me for eating his sandwich last week. But he's back at the farm so I can't kick his ass right now. I'm letting off a little steam."

 _Right, the Robin Hood guy_ , he remembered. Bucky chuckled lowly at the petty answer. "So that's why you're punching it?"

Natasha shrugged non-committally. "I like to punch things when I get angry." She took off her gloves and sat down at on nearby bench, picking up the water bottle and taking a long gulp. The icy water felt cool and comforting as it travelled down her system.

"I guess I should remember never to eat the last chocolate chip cookie," he noted.

"That would be extremely smart of you."

Natasha Romanoff was one of the few people who didn't mind Bucky's presence, which he appreciated greatly. Most- scratch that- everyone was either suspicious or scared of him. Some avoided him like a plague, while others cast mistrustful glowers when he was around. It was a vivid parallel of her first experience joining SHIELD. The only other SHIELD agent who wasn't wary about him was Sharon. Steve's unwavering loyalty and unyielding faith in Bucky was enough to instil confidence in Sharon about him. Natasha had a good rapport with Bucky, to the surprise of others. She seemed abnormally welcoming to him despite their previous not-so-friendly encounters, only two which he remembers: Odessa and DC.

Natasha inwardly winced. She couldn't help but feel a wave of disappointment when he admitted he didn't remember what occurred in Germany after Zemo uttered those dreaded words. He hadn't recognised her then and he doesn't ever remember her asking him. It was endlessly difficult pretending to act as if they had just recently met. To be able to spot the very same habits as he had before, but pretend she had never seen them. To fight alongside him in missions, but pretend it was an new experience. To watch him become more emotionally open, but pretend that this was a side she'd never seen before. To converse with him as he anxiously revealed his disjointed memories, but pretend that she had nothing to do with his history. To watch him train vigorously, and pretend she hadn't been trained in a similar manner. To hear him mumble under his breath in Russian, and pretend she didn't smile at it. To hear him laugh, but pretend to forget the many times she made him laugh during a time of complete desolation. To see him reminiscing of old memories with Steve, and pretend the fact that he couldn't recall Natalia Alianovna Romanova didn't hurt her in the slightest. To find him in the kitchen at 2 am, because he he was afraid the nightmares would return and didn't want to wake anyone up, but pretend that nightmares don't haunt her anymore, offering to make a mug of hot chocolate to help instead. He'd give a strained smile, dark bags beneath his eyes painfully conspicuous, and graciously accept with a small nod.

She was a master at pretending, no matter how exhausting. It was partly what made her a good spy; if could lie to herself so well, deceiving others was a piece of cake.

Natasha heaved herself out of her reverie and glanced back at Bucky, who hadn't said anything so far. He stared intently at the ground, lost in wispy thoughts of his own. "From what I've heard, you've just come back from a successful mission. Congrats," she commented, gesturing to his black uniform. "I'd thought you might want to relax some place, so what are you doing here? You know there's a new games room on the 5th floor? Sam's idea, I suppose."

He kneeled down and picked up her boxing gloves thoughtfully,"Maybe I find training relaxing." It was true, but he was also reluctant to disclose the real reason as to why he was here. He didn't want to be reminded of what had transpired. Plus, it was pointless to inform Natasha. Bucky grimaced; she probably already knew about Wanda's willingness to be experimented by Hydra.

Natasha laughed quietly. Just another thing she had to pretend she didn't know already. "Me too. In fact, I would love to have a worthy sparring partner, " she informed, walking towards the fight area. He observed, his gaze following her with interest. "Clint's gotten too easy for me. And he's retired too. What do you say, soldier?"

Bucky stood up, an amused smirk formed on his mouth. Natasha reflected his smirk with one of her own and a challenging stance. But then his smirk dropped: sparring matches were tough. His strength couldn't guarantee her safety, what if he accidentally hurt-

-"Where's the fun if there's no danger? " she asked, reading his train of thought. "I'm a lot better than 'good'. And sorry to break it to you, Barnes, but I've been in more _danger_ than a sparring match."

Bucky licked his lips sheepishly at her reference to his ridiculous evaluation. He couldn't ignore her persistence, it was endearing but also exciting. She wanted to fight him and he enjoyed fighting, admittedly. Something about her made him feel less of an outcast (though he wondered sometimes why she always referred to him as Barnes and not Bucky like everyone else).

The more he contemplated, Natasha strangely felt familiar to him somewhat. Her appearance oddly reminded him of someone, but he could never pin-point it. Like a fragment of memory that always slips through his fingers whilst the rest of it remains in his palm. In occasional dreams he'd see a similar silhouette to Natasha's, but the memory wouldn't stay long enough for him to decrypt properly. He learnt not to dwell too much on memories that constantly eluded him, hence he never mentioned it to her, considering it insignificant. Bucky concentrated on the fact it helped enormously to have Natasha understand him in particular. The guilt of having a bloody past and dealing with it was something Bucky could relate to her on a level he couldn't with anybody else. Not even Steve could begin to imagine what it was like. She walked with him on the path of redemption. He didn't feel the subconscious pressure to 'be' Bucky Barnes with her, which was probably why he felt unusually comfortable around her; she didn't hold a preconceived expectation of him. Bucky shot Natasha a rare honest smile.

"Okay," he agreed, taking decisive steps towards the area. Natasha beamed as she transformed into a fighting stance. Her green eyes shone with fresh audacity, making Bucky more keen to start the match. He stood opposite her, a few feet away, his body poised and prepared to attack. "Ready?"

His metal arm shone in the sunlight as eagerness generated in the atmosphere, effectively removing any vestige of his aggravation. Natasha's eyes landed momentarily on the red star gleaming boldly on his left shoulder, and then his dauntless face and blue eyes, gleaming with determination. Deja vu touched her once again, but she dismissed it just as fast as it came. "Ready," she confirmed, narrowing her eyes and bracing herself.

It had been many long years since they last shared this dance.

* * *

 **للقراءة** **-** **شكرا جزيلا :)**


	3. The Tragic Tryst

❝ **With you I found peace in hell.** ❞

It was early morning. Steve was sat at the table, a newspaper in his hand as he held a glass of orange juice in the other. Tony had constantly showed him how quickly you could find the most recent news globally on the smart phone, but Steve found it more convenient to read the old-fashioned way. Bucky arrived, his eyes searching the room.

"Hey Buck," Steve acknowledged, "There's blueberry pancakes, if you want 'em."

"Where's everybody?" It was bizarre seeing the kitchen empty and quiet in the mornings. Vision normally cooked breakfast, occasionally glancing at a recipe book. Steve rolling his eyes at Tony's non-stop witty remarks, with Rhodey laughing at them. Sam shoving his face with food, Clint talking loudly on the phone to his family, and Natasha conversing with Wanda whilst eating an apple.

"Tony had an emergency meeting, Clint's at the farm. Wanda's at high school, Vision's in the workshop. Rhodey is at the hospital for physical therapy. And Nat moves too fast for me to keep an eye on her so my guess is as good as yours," he replied. "Sam's helping out the VA again. But I told him we'd go for a run in a few minutes exactly an hour ago."

"We?"

"Yep, me and you buddy. So get eating."

Happily, Bucky stacked a pile of blueberry pancakes on his plate. He liked blueberries. He sat across Steve, munching pancake after pancake. Steve looked cautiously at him from above the newspaper. Bucky threw him a big smile. "This is delicious," he said, his mouth full of food. For the first time in a while Bucky felt oddly chirpy in the morning. For once, his mind wasn't distressed from nightmares or troubles. In fact, he was more happy than he's been in months. Thanks to the flashback.

Obviously Steve recognised the difference. "Buck, you okay?" he asked carefully.

Bucky grinned. "Yeah." Steve decided not to press on after that.

After they were done with breakfast, they met Sam at the park, already jogging. They joined in. "You guys took your sweet-ass time," he mentioned.

"I was eating," Bucky mumbled.

"You're always the problem," Sam stated. Steve grinned at Bucky's disgruntled expression as he overtook Sam on the left.

"Don't you start that again!" he yelled after him, running after the super-soldier.

As time went on, Bucky became more pensive. The cheeriness of the morning was replaced by a sense of puzzlement. He dwelled on the flashback, eagerness increasing as well as apprehension. He wanted more context. Steve called Bucky, but he reacted after his name was called several times. His sprint regressed to a slow jog as Sam and Steve raced ahead. After an hour, they stopped. Sam was sweating his hands on his knees, meanwhile Steve panted heavily beside a tree. Bucky approached them calmly, not exhausted at all. At least physically. Mentally he needed to stop thinking too much.

"I'm getting Starbucks. You guys want anything?" Sam announced.

"Starbucks. Sounds like what we'd name a restaurant if we ever started one," Steve shook his head. "Right, Buck?"

"Hm." Bucky, on the other hand, was staring at the ground, his face pinched with deliberation.

"I'll just have a bottle of water, Sam." Steve told him. After Sam walked off, Steve's expression became unreadable as he took a seat near Bucky. "Was it a nightmare?"

Bucky paused. "Flashback."

"The fourties?" Steve asked, his face lighting up with nostalgia. Nightmares usually consisted of Hydra and flashbacks of pre-wartime.

Bucky licked his lips, hesitating. "No, not the fourties. I remembered someone from my time with Hydra."

"Who?" Steve grew defensive, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. His abhorrence for Hydra had never been so severe until he read through Bucky's file.

Bucky thought back to last night. He had trouble sleeping as usual. The doctor recommended he have sleeping pills to help him get some rest, citing that nightmares were a common symptom of Post-traumatic stress disorder during his last appointment. Steve mentioned he took some sleeping pills a couple of days after he was unfrozen. His mind had difficulty adjusting to the modern world and memories of war on the front-line that seemed like just yesterday couldn't let him have a blink of sleep. But Bucky was reluctant to have yet another drug enter his system, regardless of whether it would help him or not. He'd had experimental drugs in his body for decades. The thought of another unnerved him. So instead he made hot chocolate with extra cream for himself before bed. He was glad to have found a better alternative. Natasha's trick seemed to work because his nightmares were kept at bay. Like last night, no nightmares, but a sporadic flashback:

 _"You shouldn't be here." It was stern, but clearly forced. There was an undertone of secret relief in his otherwise gravelly voice. It was said lowly, a clandestine whisper floating in the darkness, only to be heard by a specific pair of ears._

 _The figure stayed still. The Winter Soldier's gaze remained fixated on it despite the lack of light. His rigorous training regime and the countless drugs injected in his body exponentially improved his senses. He waited patiently for the figure to respond. Finally it moved; with a simple flick of the wrist, it turned the switch on. Dim light partially lit the room, accompanied by an intermittent fizzing noise. The light bulb needed changing._

 _"You shouldn't be here." There was a hint of fear and warning. The tone couldn't disguise it's desperation._

 _The figure smiled, regardless of everything: the danger, the rules, the soldiers, the programme, the handlers, the punishments. Her long red hair brushed past her shoulder, her eyes shining with inexplicable joy. She walked towards him, her smile permanent._

 _"Natalia," he said, trying to sound serious, but couldn't stop his grin forming._

 _"James." She ignored his weak attempt._

 _Boldly, she wrapped her arms around her torso and leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat. The Winter Soldier stood stationary, attempting to resist her show of affection. As expected, Natalia soon felt his arms encapsulating her smaller form tightly, pulling her closer. Heat radiated from his body, a comfortable warmth that hugged her cold limbs. She brought her arms up to his shoulders, bringing him down and impossibly closer. She needed to feel him; to know he was real. James buried his face his the crook of her neck, soft breaths tickling her skin. Natalia inhaled deeply; he smelled like dirt, rusty metal and there was a tinge of copper. Like dry blood._

 _They stayed like that, taking a silent solace from each other's existence. A meeting of quiet glee in a world torn by destruction. An unspoken gratitude shared between them as they helped each other. A small moment where they could freely express their own emotions; a small moment where they finally allowed themselves to feel weak. It was liberating not to have someone dictate their choices or what they should be like. With each other, they could choose to be what they wanted. It was supposed to be wrong._

 _Natalia sighed contentedly, stroking his hair which had begun to grow long. Confusion suddenly overtook her as she realised James was extracting himself from their embrace. His hands remained on her waist as he stared at her stoically._

 _"You shouldn't be here," he repeated._

 _Resentment contorted her delicate features at his persistence. "I haven't seen you in three months," she glared. "Three months, James. So when I hear you're back, do you honestly expect me to stay in my room?"_

 _"No," he replied, smirking slightly. "But you know they're suspicious. You sneaking here could make everything worse. We need to be careful. They watch us like eagles, Natalia."_

 _"I know, I know." She muttered anxiously. She touched his face gently, his stubble prickling her palm. "I can't help it. I missed you more than I thought I would."_

 _"I missed you too," James admitted. It almost inaudible. He rested his forehead lightly on hers and closed his eyes, feeling an elusive sense of serenity . "God, I wish we didn't have to do this."_

 _"We could run away," she suggested._

 _His eyes flashed open as a mirth etched on his face. He chuckled and closed them again. "I've missed your humour- "_

 _"-I'm serious, James," she interrupted indignantly. "We could start our lives somewhere new. Far away. We could live in a small house maybe in Europe. Or even America. Have a family and be happy. Together without being scared. No KGB or Hydra-"_

 _"-They'll find us. You know that." He cut in harshly, immediately popping her bubble of happiness. "Don't delude yourself."_

 _The most heartbreaking thing about it was that he could imagine it: Natalia in a pristine white wedding dress, walking down the aisle; a cosy apartment in Romania; a little girl with dark hair and boy with emerald eyes running around the room as he and Natalia pretended to chase them; sitting together at the dining table and laughing at childish stories; kissing them goodnight before closing the door. He could see it all._

 _"You know," he continued softly, bringing her knuckles to his lips and planting a small kiss, "if there was any chance of success, I would take it. I would."_

 _But the cruel reality was that any dreams they drew were merely a mirage; a false hope that fate would never let to come true. They were monsters. Killers. Assassins. They were moulded to fit a life that wasn't compatible with their desires. It would never happen. They had to accept the brutal truth._

 _"You're right," she swallowed, a lump forming in her throat. James felt an instant twinge of regret for making her sad. "Tomorrow's the graduation ceremony. Is that why you're here?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Will you leave again... after it's over?"_

 _"I've not received any orders to," he paused uneasily, "yet."_

 _"Yet," she echoed. This was one of the various reasons she was jealous of normal people. They had the luxury to choose as they please. And she couldn't even spend time with the person she loved._

 _Instinctively, Natalia went on her tiptoes, capturing his lips with an yearning ache. He pulled her up, giving some leverage for ease. He fervently reciprocated, his problems slowly disappeared with her magical touch. The kiss changed from sweet and passionate to desperate and aggressive. They clung together as if they were each other's only source of oxygen. James forgot how alive she made him feel. Her hands racked through his hair roughly as he hoisted her up against the wall. But this couldn't last long. They were treading on thin ice that could crack any second. They broke apart reluctantly, panting heavily. James let her down, his hungry gaze not leaving her eyes._

 _"You should go to sleep," he murmured, releasing his hold slowly. "I'll see you tomorrow."_

 _"Promise?" She asked, not bothering to keep the disappointment out if her voice._

 _"I promise."_

 _Natalia looked at him one final time and gave a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the room. The light bulb went out and darkness once again cloaked the room._

"Buck?" Steve said nervously, pulling Bucky out of his trance. He had suddenly turned silent. "Bucky, who did you remember?"

"Natalia," he stated in a thick Russian accent. It was the first time he said the name aloud and was shocked how naturally the name rolled off his tongue.

"Who?" Concern was wholly wiped out, confusion coloured his tone instead.

"A girl. We wanted to run away together," Bucky explained, sounding as though his mind was a million miles away. "We didn't want to stay with them."

"Did you... love her?" Steve asked curiously.

Bucky faced him for the first time since they started the conversation. The flashback was hazy now, though it must have been crystal clear at the time. "I think so."

"What'd she look like?"

"She had red hair." It was the only striking feature he could recall with clarity, unconsciously smiling as he thought about it.

Long laughter erupted from Steve as he clapped his hand on Bucky's back. "You always did have a thing for red-heads. Are you sure you're not getting confused with Natasha? Our resident red-haired Russian super-spy?"

Bucky angrily shrugged Steve's arm off him, irritated by his doubt. He was absolutely sure that it was definitely a flashback. "Punk, I'm serious. It's not Natasha Romanoff. Someone called Natalia."

"Okay then, what's her last name?"

"I-I don't know."

Steve pursed his lips, any remnant of amusement gone. "Do you think she's still alive, Buck?"

Bucky stopped; he hadn't thought at all whether she was alive or not. Sighing, he shook his head. "Probably not, it was too long ago." An incomprehensible pang of despair gripped him all of a sudden. "Probably dead."

"Don't think about it too much, Buck," Steve advised with a commiserating smile.

"That's pretty much normal for us anyway," Bucky muttered. "Everyone we knew are dead."

Steve agreed, but Bucky didn't hear him. He was more obsessed with the mysterious woman than ever. There were so much more possibilities than death. Was she also a subject? An experimentation? A scientist? Bucky highly doubted that. A spy? Maybe. How did they meet? How important was she that Hydra allowed her to be close enough to develop an illicit relationship with the Winter Soldier? A supposed ruthless killing machine. Did they go on missions together? Did they ever say goodbye? Did their relationship survive? What happened to her when Hydra put him in cryofreeze? Questions bombarded him from every direction. He needed to know more about the woman that restored humanity in him. The woman who reminded him was it was like to feel loved. The woman who gave him a home when he had none.

He vowed to himself he'll find out.

* * *

 **Sorry if this sounds rushed, I wrote it in a day. The trajectory of the story changes depending on the reviews. Ultimately they are my motivation and fuel, so I truly appreciate you writing them.** **Until next time, пока.**


	4. Malign Marriage

❝ **Some things are better left unsaid.** ❞

The hallway was narrow and dark, only small dots of light above leading the way. Bucky's metal finger curled around the trigger of his handgun as he followed Steve, looking behind him every now and then. There was not a single echo of sound; highly suspicious for a building that was bustling with life just a week ago. Secret agents reported that the place was built on illegal ground, and thus it was kept a secret. But as intelligence reached SHIELD, a bomb mysteriously exploded and destroyed half the site. Police were still investigating the explosion, keeping the area strictly out-of-bounds for everyone. Fury was concern about the possibility of a chemical weapon being produced so he sent in a team of Avengers.

The place seemed deserted. "Sam, what do you see?" Steve said through the earpiece.

"Nothing, Cap. Just a couple of rats."

"Lab rats?" Bucky's forehead scrunched at the thought.

"No," he replied, "the nasty ones."

"Keep looking," Steve ordered, "Wanda, did you find anything?"

"They emptied the offices well. Sorry, Steve."

"Sharon?"

"It's clear outside." She was a look-out for security guards that patrolled the perimeter.

With dejection bruising his optimism, Steve and Bucky ventured further in. The building was more wide than long, only having 6 floors. Most of them had open space, as if they were testing something. They reached the end of the corridor, but now there were two staircases opposite each other. Steve took the right, while Bucky climbed the left.

He arrived at a corridor full of rooms. They were dark, except one. Whispers of rustling were heard inside. He gripped his gun firmly as vigour swelled inside, his muscles hardening for what was to come. Skirting along the wall of the room with a deathly silence, he inched closer to his prey. The rustling stopped. Bucky could almost smell the fright in the air. The target dropped something heavy; it was nervous. With a snarl he stepped out, the head of the gun aimed at the target. A red substance suddenly froze his hand, preventing the bullet from moving out of it.

"What happened?!" Steve's voice asked worriedly.

The target was Wanda; her eyes impossibly wide with shock. "B-Bucky?"

The red magic disappeared and Bucky lowered his arm. "Nothing, Steve."He walked out the room, refusing to communicate with Wanda. She watched him go just as her words reached the tip of her tongue. She stared at the doorway sadly. He was still angry.

"If you work with Wanda you both could cover the floor quickly," Steve encouraged.

"Unnecessary," was Bucky's blunt answer. "There's nothing here to cover."

"You guys better be faster," Sharon urged abruptly, "We've been spotted. I took out three of the guards, but there more coming."

"Shit," swore Sam, "I see them from the window. We need to get the hell outta here."

They managed to get out fast; Sam flew out one of the ruined part of the building while Wanda did the same. Bucky and Steve jumped out, landing unscathed in the grass below. Helicopters began to arrive at the scene, bright light flashing from them as they reached the rendezvous point. Sharon was seated in the driver's seat as they jumped in, crestfallen at their unsuccessful findings.

* * *

"Buck, you've been acting weird." Bucky heard Steve from behind him as he put his ammunition back in his locker. They arrived back to SHIELD headquarters an hour ago, dispersing into their own work, except Steve and Sharon. Fury had been less than impressed by the outcome of the mission. Bucky presumed that was why Steve was back soon from the briefing.

"The mission was a flop, I'm ecstatic about that," he muttered sarcastically, removing a knife from his hip pocket.

"I mean with Wanda."

"What about Maximoff?" Bucky asked, feigning ignorance.

"Bucky," Steve said knowingly, "she told me."

He sighed, the familiar irritation crawling over him again. "I'm sorry I couldn't be nicer to **someone** **who practically volunteered for the same organisation that abused me for decades** ," Bucky deadpanned, continuing to remove his weapons, roughly shoving them on the shelves. "Did you expect me to be fine when I found out she volunteered for Hydra? Hydra who tortured me? Turned me into a monster? Remember that Steve?"

"No- of course not!- Buck," Steve flinched at the abrasive edge of Bucky's tone. "She made a mistake. She feels like that too."

"What? A monster?" he countered derisively, sharply glaring at Steve.

His mind raced with frenzy thoughts, incredulity covering his face; Bucky couldn't believe Steve was trivializing his decades of cruel conditioning, dehumanisation and desensitisation with someone who **agreed to be experimented on**. And she received magical powers that could bring your worst nightmare to life. Where exactly is the bad part? She knew what she signed up for. There was a stark difference between their two cases. He was suddenly filled with abhorrence at that notion: Wanda didn't even suffer a fraction of what he underwent. His anger was now directed at Steve's belittlement of his torment. How dare he compare to some like Wanda?

"Unable to control your power- which was your fault you got 'em in the first place- doesn't make you a monster. That's just lack of practise, Steve. You know what a monster is, huh? A monster is someone who can kill in cold-blood without remorse. To kill an innocent person because you've been conditioned to succeed. A completed mission is all that matters to you. To watch someone beg for their life on their fucking knees, but you pull the trigger anyway. Was she ever forced to do that? No, 'cos she had a choice- not me. A monster is-"

"-I get it," Steve interjected, stopping Bucky's rant. Guilt always violently triggered him when Bucky talked about Hydra's programming. He should have been there. He should have been there for Bucky, like he was always there for him no matter what. But that one time Bucky was desperate for help, he was snoozing in an ice-cube, a thousand feet under the ocean. A part of him blamed that he was also responsible for Bucky's state. "But she's sorry."

"I know," he conceded. "But that doesn't mean I can't forget... at least not now." He turned to Steve, "this was why you wouldn't tell me how she got her powers, right? "

Steve nodded guiltily. "She's been really upset about it."

"Wow, must have been so traumatic to choose to be experimented on by a group of Nazis," Bucky shrugged unsympathetically, slamming his locker door shut. He locked it with a quick click. Steve folded his arms, hiding his guilt away again. He was dissatisfied, but he could understand his friend's dark perspective. And he respected that.

"I'd better go," he said, his hand patting Bucky's shoulder. "Don't want to keep Sharon waiting too long."

"Hey," he suddenly called Steve, a sudden curious thought tapping his mind. Steve stopped just as he was about to step out the room."Is Natasha back from Prague?"

The blond looked up, mentally rewinding his memory. "No, she's still on a mission with Agent May. Why?" A cheeky smirk curved on his mouth. The negative atmosphere diminished instantly.

Bucky scoffed at his expression. "She's been away for a while."

"Yeah, it's been over a month. Missing her, eh?" He teased. He sort of understood Bucky's maddening habit of embarrassing him about girls, and why he used to think it was so funny back when they were in high school. And in the army. And even with Sharon sometimes. How the tables have turned.

"She's the only challenging opponent," he replied casually. It wasn't the real reason, Bucky wasn't quite sure himself why he even felt the need to ask. Did he miss their profound conversations? Definitely. "Sam could learn a thing or two from her."

"I'm with you on that, pal. Everyone could."

-LINE BREAK-

It happened again.

Bucky propelled up from his bed, frustration clawing his temporary peace. He ran an exasperated hand through his unkempt long locks, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Images flashed through his head at a swift speed as restlessness once again arrived, uninvited. He fell back onto his pillow with a annoyed growl. His eyes flickered to the digital clock on the bedside: 03:51. Much to his chagrin he saw the same woman, yet couldn't identify her face clearly. It was too blurry.

Strenuously, he managed to regained his composure and closed his eyes. There was a blonde-haired girl, she looked no younger than 20, around five foot six. Bucky saw himself breaking the girl's arm, emitting a ear-piercing shriek from her. Using her broken arm as momentum, he tossed her across the room like a rag doll, her body viciously colliding with the wall. She was unconscious. Bucky recoiled, grasping the duvet. It was absurdly unfair; she was sorely inexperienced, especially compared to him. Why was the Winter Soldier ordered to attack her? The girl was not a mission.

" _Disgraceful, Yelena. I expect more from a graduate," the old woman drawled. The terrible English accent was hardly disguised. "You have disappointed us once again. Oleg, take her to the infirmary." She was unaffected by the brutality, watching scornfully as a man dragged her limp body away. The old woman looked at him, lacking the omnipresent fear associated with him. "Soldat, you are to report to Vasily Karpov. You have permission to leave." The asset nodded stiffly, his emotions restricted behind the black mask concealing his face._

 _The image faded out as the scene shifted: night time. The Winter Soldier walked outside, robotic strides that made no sound. His vision stopped at a person who was peering over the ledge. Hesitancy seeped inside his mind, but his body did not betray him. He stood near the girl. He felt her perturbed glance on him for a second, but his gaze remained on the cloudy blackness of the midnight sky. The air grew thick with disquietude as the minutes past. She tapped the metal bar beneath her fingers, the bitter winter wind scraping past her hair._

" _I've been promised to the hand of The Red Guardian," Natalia declared, her voice void of emotion. Her English accent was smoother, but there was still a hint of Russian in them. "I'm going to marry him, James."_

" _I've heard."_

 _A uncomfortable pause filled atmosphere. Natalia shut her eyes tightly, grasping her last shred of nonchalance. She furtively looked at James with a poker face, ruminating. He was a difficult person to read, just like herself. What did he think of the proposal?_

" _I don't want to," she confessed, a tiny whisper as if she was disclosing a treacherous secret. His steely resolve grew weak at her quiet words. Natalia rested her head on his arm, not tall enough to fully reach his shoulders. James' heartache returned, jabbing him with insistence._

 _He brought his right arm around her waist, squeezing it. There were no words that could possibly reassure her. Or them. "I know. But you will."_

 _She looked up at it ruefully, "we don't have a choice." It was said almost mechanically. It had become their painful mantra, bringing a bizarre semblance of comfort. He could see her blank expression crumbling, her empty eyes becoming glassy. Her bottom lip wanting to tremble._

 _And he hugged her._

 _It was so unlike him to instigate such show of immediate affection, but he did it nonetheless. It was a rare part of his former self taking over, a part that was still intact despite the brainwashing; a minuscule piece of the man he was before Hydra abducted him was miraculously retained. He hugged her, enfolding himself around her because that was the only thing he could think to do. He kissed her forehead, a throbbing sense of grief settling inside him. The same grief he tried to run away from when he heard the news from two low-level soldiers talking, clueless. He ignored it. Then he overheard his handler speaking to a Soviet official. It was true. The realisation that Natalia won't be his anymore, that she is someone's bride. Someone will be waiting for her as she walks down the aisle in a pristine white dress. Not him._

" _It was never going to be me, but it's gonna be alright." It physically hurt to say it, but this was the time to accept the inevitable. He clenched his jaw as she as a small sob shook her body. "You'll have to marry Alexi Shostakov."_

Bucky's eyes widened, as a startling revelation dawned on him. He finally had a solid clue. A tiny step to finding out about who exactly Natalia was. Hastily he opened a drawer and seized a notebook and pen. There was no pen. He cursed loudly, wildly searching the room for a writing instrument. A pencil lay on top a shelf. He grabbed it and opened his notebook so fast it tore slightly from the spine. He flickered to a clean page and scribbled in Russian a name. Alexi Shostakov. He added underneath in smaller, neater writing, "The Red Guardian". With bright inspiration rushing through his blood, he grabbed his phone from under the pillow and texted at this ungodly hour:

 _I need a favor._

* * *

 **I hope I explained Bucky's emotions well enough to justify his view.** __ **Vielen Dank!**


	5. Sly Sleuthing

❝ **A house is a place, but a home is a feeling** ❞

The low rumble of the engine reverberated as the quinjet ripped through the sky. They were due to land in Russia in a few minutes. The cloaking device was activated, thus no one could see, nor any machine detect, an illegal aircraft entering Russian international airspace. Snow powdered from the sky, falling slowly- a stark contrast to the current heat wave in New York.

It was comfortable. Perhaps because the frigid cold became his home over time. Bucky stared at the small window, a strange mixture of nostalgia and worry stirring in his stomach. The torment he suffered could never be erased, but this was also the country he resided in for most of his life- more than 60 years. The country he felt more related to than America. He still knew the Russian language fluently and the various towns and cities dotted around in the country. It was like meeting an old friend you didn't like a lot. He gripped the armrest as the quinjet descended.

As it landed, he unlocked the seat belt. The quinjet landed nicely, especially since it was performed manually. Steve didn't bode well with flying (though he was the best at falling from high places, much to Bucky's annoyance, he demonstrated it too many times). The last time he was sat in the cockpit, the punk buried himself with the plane in the water. Thankfully when he and Bucky were on route to Siberia, it was on auto-pilot most of the time. Again, modern technology amazed Bucky. Steve was a ridiculously awful pilot. Even Bucky was better than him despite not receiving professional piloting training. The Winter Soldier rarely need to take flight during missions. It was only considered to be vital to know if he was caught in unexpected, dire circumstances.

"You're a better pilot than Steve," he remarked. Natural light filled the plane as the door opened. "Thanks for helping me out, Carter."

"We didn't crash in the ocean so it's good," Sharon smiled, removing her headgear. "No worries, just don't disturb me at 5 am next time." He gave her a pacifying smile.

They stepped out onto the empty white plains. The wind blew past them with a high-pitched whistle and a layer of frost smothered the grass. Mountains stood gloomily in the distance, hills of fresh snow could be seen close by. No one lived near the vicinity, except a few animals.

"According to the SHIELD," she stated, "the last Soviet secret base is over... there," she pointed. "It was abandoned during the early '90s."

"End of the the Cold War," Bucky commented, staring at the building in the distance.

"Exactly. The base was listed on SHIELD's base as insignificant; zero threat," she informed. "So no agents were instructed to search the place for years. But it should have files."

"Why didn't SHIELD take the files?"

"The ones found were pointless. They were coded in some unknown language, or had information we already knew. But you said the Soviets had secret compartments. SHIELD didn't deem it necessary to propose a thorough clean-up of the base."

"No, they're hiding some. They're always prepared," Bucky muttered darkly. The frozen grass crushed beneath their shoes as they approached the dilapidated building.

"The name Alexi Shostakov didn't come up. But The Red Guardian did," she continued, "he was some sort of Soviet hero in the early 1950s. Was abnormally strong for a human. The Soviet wanted to create an army super-soldiers. The only piece of information of him was found here."

"There's gotta be more," he said, his voice hardened with determination.

They reached the entrance. Sharon examined the building, her lips pursed with concentration; the metal door was barred by rusty chains and locks, surrounded by sandbags. There were no windows, and it seemed like a tap could bring the whole place down so shooting the door off was not a appropriate option.

"How are we going to-" Sharon stopped, watching Bucky tear the chains and breaking the locks nonchalantly with his vibranium arm. The metal door screeched, rubbing against the ground as it moved for the first time in decades. "You know what, that's a great idea." She followed after him.

Darkness engulfed the large room. Sharon resorted to her flashlight, realising quickly that squinting was useless. She searched for a light switch. Ancient dust devoured the place and she pinched her nose with disgust at the revolting stench that contaminated the air. She briefly wondered how Bucky was able to stand it. Dim lit graced the room; Bucky found the switch. Sharon glanced at his, finally able to discern his face. He was looked pensive.

"You okay?"

"Hydra bases were complex. It's never this simple. They had prisons, labs, training rooms... this... this isn't right," he observed, turning his head side to side. The floor was ruined with age, shelves broken and drawers rummaged through. Chairs and tables were upturned, bare wires with frazzled ends suspended from above and a tattered soviet flag hanging loosely from a pole.

Sharon opened a drawer, blowing the dust of one the books inside. The only book there. "Hey Buck," she coughed, "what's this say?" She could read in a few languages, but Russian was not one she was skilled in. The thick book had a plain black cover, small white Russian writing printed in the centre. It looked innocuous, she though, but became secretly unnerved by his expression as his eyes flitted over the book, anger simmering beneath his impassive mask.

"Eugenics," he stated curtly, his eyes icy blue. "The perfection of humans."

"Do you think Hydra experimented here as well?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," he spat.

"Place doesn't seem like a typical lab."

Bucky marched towards a wall, patting it carefully in different places. She watched his action with curiosity. As his hand pushed in the right brick, the ground began to shake. The first thought that shot through her head was earthquake. The ground moved apart, dust swirling everywhere as they were woken up. A small hidden entrance revealed itself the middle if the room. Her mouth agape, shock unabashedly colouring her face. She stared quizzically, her brown eyes wide with confusion.

"I remember a few of Hydra's secrets," he said smugly.

They preceded down the winding stone staircase. He was right. The underground level was shockingly vast; from the landing she could easily see huge blocks of outdated machinery, couple of rooms with there doors half opened, and another staircase leading further down. The light was shining from above, Sharon presumed it lit up automatically when the hidden switch was activated. Everything was impeccably neat. Sharon skimmed the tables, the papers organised in stacks, covered with dust. Everything was tidy.

"Woah," she spoke, her astonishment tangible, "SHIELD are gonna love this."

"I'm gonna check below. You start here."

Sharon immediately started searching, running from room to room. She pulled out papers, flicked through books. She searched for over an hour, paper after paper, drawer after drawer, folder after folder. She'd been staring at Russian text for so long, she started to see Russian letters on the walls. Her suit was floured with dust as she blew the dust off them. Documents contained information on experiments. She cringed at the black and white photos of the results clipped on the top.

"Metabolism examination," Bucky's voice read from behind. "Also known as starvation. I remember those."

She dropped the papers from her hands instantly, her hand leaping to her chest. "Bucky!" She scolded, breathing heavily. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Oops," he deadpanned, picking up the fallen file. "His body was probably downstairs. "

"What do you mean?"

"There's prison cells below," he informed. "To punish traitors and enemies," he began, an unsettling expression on his face. "I saw decomposed bodies and skeletons. Unrecognisable. They obviously died from negligence since this base was raided."

"Oh my God!" She gasped, a sense a nausea touching her.

"Honestly, they would have died anyway. Don't go," he advised, "too graphic."

Desperate to change the topic, Sharon rushed to the other side of the room and pulled out a file out of a pile she gathered together. "I found a file," she handed it to him, "the name Shostakov came up. But my Russian's not the best. Thought you could verify that."

She watched as Bucky's eager expression slowly morphed into a horrified shock. His fingers creased the side of the papers as his eyes rapidly skimmed across the pages, colour draining from his face. Sharon wondered absent-mindedly how fast he could read.

"Alexi Shostakov was a willing subject. The man's the Soviet's version of Captain America. He married Natalia," he surmised. He took a deep breath, his eyes stopped on a single word. "-Romanova in 1952. Yelena Belova was considered unfit for him. His procedure began a months after his marriage. " He turned the page over and rubbed his face with his human hand in agitation. "There's missing information... graduate of The Red Room...Department X... success of Winter Soldier programme... wait, that's me."

"The Red Room doesn't sound good at all. And you certainly weren't the last person Hydra wanted to turn into a killing robot."

Bucky looked pensive, glaring at the papers as his jaw clenched. Anxiety rolled in his stomach, a sense of foreboding penetrating his mind.

"And you got her last name. Romanova," Sharon pointed out.

"Romanova," he emphasised the syllables, revelation hitting him. "Natalia Romanova."

"We have something better to work with now."

"Yelena Belova," he added. "I remember her. I used to... train her. I think."

Sharon rummaged through another cabinet, pulling out a paper and handing it to Bucky. He took it, slightly edgy. "Department X was an experimental division that started in 1949," Sharon remembered. "I figured that this was their first trial and concept of creating a secret ward. The rest of the information's missing here as well."

"1949," Bucky repeated bitterly, "5 years after I 'died'." Bucky grit his teeth at the memory of the echo of his screams as he fell from the the train.

"Founded by an acquaintance of Arnim Zola, Johann Fenhoff," Sharon said, unaware of the sudden dread constricting Bucky at the sound of the name.

"That sadistic bastard," he snarled.

"Fenhoff escaped custody from the SSR. Hypnosis was his speciality. He was rumoured to work with Hydra after he absconded."

"To efficiently brainwash people," he said lowly, venom dripping from his voice. Sharon nodded, knowing that brainwashing was something he frequently endured while being a captive of Hydra.

There was a stretch of silence as Bucky inadvertently drifted back into a sinister reverie. "Think you could help me out again...?" he asked quietly.

"I guess I gotta hack the servers, " Sharon replied with a hidden grin, her hands on her hips.

Bucky and Sharon were back inside the quinjet, already flying past eastern European. Bucky watched the sky through the front of the plane, the clouds changing shapes as they ripped through the plain blue sky. His metal hand tapped against the arm rest, a troubled expression marring his face. Words he'd seen from Hydra's folder felt painfully familiar. The type of familiarity that toyed with his emotions, doubting whether the familiarity was from a real memory or something implanted by Hydra.

 _The Red Room_.

Bucky contemplated over the word, repeating it countless times mentally, as if he expected a sudden flashback associated with it. Hours felt like mere minutes. A buzz tore his out of his contemplation as Sharon pressed a button.

"Hey Sharon." It was Steve. "It's been a while, just wondering where you've been all these hours. I couldn't get a hold of you before which was weird."

Sharon looked at Bucky who was wildly gesturing something with his arms. Sharon hated charades. She was never good at it. "Maybe the connection was a little off. Bucky wanted to see the Grand Canyon." He face-palmed, shaking his head. She mouthed to him 'shut up'. "You want a souvenir? We'll get you a cap."

"No thanks," he laughed, "I have too many of those."

"You're missing out, they're pretty cute."

"Natasha might like it. She's always taking mine when she's incognito. They always mysteriously disappear."

"Wait, is she back?" Bucky suddenly interrupted curiously. "When did she arrive?"

"Er...a couple of hours ago. I met Agent May, so that must mean Nat's back too."

"We're on our way back, Steve. See you in a few hours!" Sharon said as they reached the US.

"Fly safe."

"Don't I always?"

"Can't argue with that," Steve admitted sheepishly. "See you soon." The line went off.

Bucky stared at the map in confusion, glancing at Sharon, who was humming a tune as the quinjet flew past New York. He looked back at the map and then whipped his head to look at her again. "D-didn't we just fly past New York?" he asked, flashing her a quizzical look, "where are we going?"

"Arizona," Sharon declared proudly, "I wasn't lying when I said they're cute, you know. I took my niece there a couple of weeks ago. I'll get you and Nat matching caps."

"I doubt she'd like that," Bucky slouched back in his seat. He was stuck another hour or so.

"No, she probably won't, but she'll appreciate the sentiment," the Blonde agreed. The map indicated they were approaching Oklahoma. "Plus, it'll look like one of those adorable couple-y things where they get matching stuff."

"It not cute, it's embarrassing. And Natasha and I are _not_ a couple," Bucky stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Sure," Sharon waved off-handedly, her tone blatantly showing she was unconvinced by his statement.

"We are not." He repeated a minute later, "...and I don't want a cap."

* * *

 **In the Marvel Comics, the Red Guardian was introduced before the Winter Soldier. He married Natasha before she became Black Widow. This story is flipping the two around. Just a little fact.**


	6. Lost Love

****IMPORTANT NOTE****

 ** **Does anyone have any good reasons why Bucky/Wanda would be a good couple? I can't find any. The most prominent ones were**** _ ** **"they look cute together"****_ ** **That's a shallow reason to ship the two characters, because it's solely based on the appearance of the actor and actress that portray those characters.****

 ** **I also found stuff like**** _ ** **"because people are afraid of them"****_ ** **They're afraid of the Hulk, and maybe even Tony Stark (they do blame him for Ultron after all) and Vision (his powers are derived from the mind-stone like Wanda in the MCU so he could do just as much damage) to some extent as well. What's your point?****

 ** **I've heard**** _ ** **"they've both lost someone"****_ ** **So has Steve. And Bruce. And Tony. And Peter. In fact, so has nearly everyone in the movies. Heroes losing someone they care about is like a golden rule that must be adhered to.****

 ** **The migraine-inducing**** _ ** **"she saved his life twice in Civil War."****_ ** **Well, duh they were team-mates. Looking out for each other is the most logical thing to do so she stopped Black Panther from killing Bucky. It's basic common sense. She also helped Clint during his fight with Natasha; are you going to romanticize that too?****

 ** **And that second time- Steve was there too. At that point in the fight the rest of Team Cap only aim was to try and get Steve and Bucky to the quinjet so they could stop Zemo in Siberia, realising the rest won't be able make it. Bucky and Steve were the priority at this stage. She countered Vision's attack, thus preventing the tower from falling on the two. And even if the tower did fall, Bucky wouldn't have died from it falling on him. He could protect his head with his arm, so no major damage afflicts him. Plus, come'on he fell of a train and plunged 847578 feet below, hit a cliff, and survived. And back then he wasn't even a fraction of the super-soldier he is now. So point invalidated.****

 ** **Lastly, the**** ** **" _bond over their similar experiences with Hydra"_**** ** **[1] There is no similarity between their experiences; she was willing/he was forced. [2] Please don't compare 60+ years of torture with someone who didn't even suffer a fifth of that much. It's embarrassingly disparaging. [3] They improved Wanda Maximoff (she's one of the strongest Avengers)/destroyed Bucky Barnes (practically mind f*cked him to the point he didn't even know his name). The Winter Soldier is a separate entity of Bucky's character that is created by Hydra. They didn't do nothing as horrific ass that to Wanda Maximoff.**** ** **And realistically, how would you "fall in love" with some one who assisted your abuser(s)? It's illogical. Unless you like to romanticize abuse** (which is stupid and wrong).**

 ** **Therefore the story is leaning towards Bucky/Nat dynamic because I can't find a single valid reason why Bucky/Wanda are compatible or in any way a good, healthy pairing.****

* * *

 ** **"Secrets are not always secrets."****

"You know what? I like this," Natasha commented, pulling down the font of the cap on her head. A cup of hot coffee sat in her other hand. Opposite her sat her partner in crime, donning a matching hat. He glanced as her face, mildly surprised for a split-second, before bringing his beverage to his mouth.

They were sat in a small retro cafe. The walls were striped blue and white, with a large rectangular mirror in its centre. The table were round and small, just enough for a two, and the floor was checkered. A slim baby-pink vase of flowers were placed in the centre of the tables, creating a fresh atmosphere.

"Sharon's idea," Bucky shrugged, "I guess that are nice. Not too bright either." After seeing the hats in the stall, Bucky decided that getting one wasn't such a bad idea after all. And the excitement on Sharon's face when he wore it made him grin too. The burgundy cap had a cartoon picture of the grand canyon printed on with a smiley face. A typical tourist souvenir. "Anyway, how was the mission?"

"Missions are confidential, Agent," Natasha said with a sly smile.

"Soldier," he corrected her, almost self-deprecatingly. Natasha returned to stirring her coffee, slightly uncomfortable.

"Long story short: kicked ass, managed not to murder anyone- mostly because of May- and got the information Fury wanted. I went shopping too. Prague is a beautiful place." Natasha took a sip. "So, how busy were you without me?"

"Not much," he smirked. "We searched some supposed AIM abandoned facilities. Found nothing conclusive."

"What about the trip to Russia?" Natasha nonchalantly asked.

Bucky almost spat his coffee out, but fortunately managed to force it down his throat, cleaning his mouth with a small tissue. "Russia?" he feigned confusion. "What about Russia?"

How could she possibly have known about something that happened mere hours ago. She had just arrived to the US as well- and Sharon made sure the the quinjet was offline to SHIELD comms- did someone tell her? Bucky huffed internally; maybe he was underestimating her ability as a spy. She was smart, too smart sometimes for Bucky's comfort.

"Barnes, you're a terrible liar."

"Only to you," he conceded begrudgingly.

"True," she smiled in satisfaction. "So?"

"I thought I remembered some old Hydra bases in Russia. And Sharon offered to help me." It was partly true. "I can remember things more clearly now." Bucky added, subtly hoping she'd take the bait and change the topic.

"What do you remember?" She tried not to sound to eager.

 _Bingo_. "Working under Hydra." He looked straight at Natasha, alert. "Training people. Some Russian ballerinas."

"Oh," Natasha remarked, "that's good progress." Her expression remained the same, if not a little apathetic. She took a gulp of her drink, her composure not giving an inkling of nervousness. But Bucky felt an inexplicable feeling that she was hiding something.

* * *

"Steve, does the name Natalia Romanova ring a bell?" Sharon asked as he walked her to her room. While some would believe it to be treacherous to disclose information that was supposed to be a secret, Sharon knew Bucky would have told Steve. They were best friends, and if Sharon didn't know better she would have assumed they were brothers.

"Did Bucky tell you that?"

"Yeah, it's been bugging him a lot."

"I do," Steve began. His voice sounded uncertain. "I was going to tell Bucky, but I wasn't sure how to say."

"What was it?" Sharon stopped Steve, her hand on his arm gently pushing him to face her.

He exhaled. "When Nat and I went to a base to find what project Insight was really about, we met Zola. It was a virtual version. He called Natasha ' _Natalia Romanova_ '. I didn't pay enough attention at the time, but..."

"It could be her," Sharon summed up, a pensive look on her expression.

"It said she was born in 1984, it doesn't make sense if we put it in a timeline-"

"-I doubt that," she cut Steve. "Natasha worked for the KGB. The KGB ended in 1991. She would have been seven in that year. Zola's date isn't right."

"Give or take a few years, it still doesn't add up," Steve disagreed.

"The Soviets liked to experiment, Steve," she argued. "It's a possibility that they also experimented on Nat. A serum. They inject chemicals to improve their best."

"Fuck, that's disgusting," he muttered. Steve couldn't swallow the fact that his two friends screaming in pain, strapped to a table with scientists; having no freedom. It was sickening. The rest of the walk was in silence. Steve was stuck in his thoughts, pondering over the inhumane treatments Bucky and Natasha had to endure, and Sharon, mentally fixing this new information with her findings in Russia like a jigsaw. When they reached thee door, Steve planted a soft kiss on Sharon's lip as she murmured her thanks.

It had been an hour or two since Sharon seated herself in front her her computer. She researched, reading several articles to verify Steve's guess. She had dozens of tabs open, decrypting SHIELD information. It was more difficult because SHEILD firewalls were designed by none other that Tony Stark. And Stark was a genius.

"Shit," Sharon muttered as the firewall alarm went off. She quickly transferred the information to the USB, hoping it would speed up. She shut down the programme and turned off the computer, stuffing the USB in her pocket. She turned the light off, and walked nonchalantly down the corridor, eventually mixing with a crowd of agents, until she was outside. She took her phone out and dialled a number. He immediately picked up.

"Bucky," Sharon started, hesitating, "Natalia Romanova is Natasha Romanoff. Buck, she's Nat!" She held her breath in, waiting for his response anxiously. Sharon couldn't imagine what his reaction would be to discover that his former target turned field partner was his secret lover in the past.

"I know."

* * *

 **Sorry about the rant at the beginning, I just had to get it off my shoulders. I don't really like this (short) chapter because it was mostly made up of dialogue and that's not my usual style.**


	7. Closing Chapter

****"There are times when I'm dreaming."****

Bucky Barnes knew it. James knew it.

He knew that the red-haired ballerina was Natasha Romanoff. The Russian which he trained in the Red Room was Natasha Romanoff. The woman who was his clandestine solace was Natasha Romanoff. The assassin that would make him laugh was Natasha Romanoff. The spy that he'd visit secretly was Natasha Romanoff. The mysterious person who entered his dreams was Natasha Romanoff. The face that he would remember when he was seated in the despicable chair, belonged to Natasha Romanoff; he knew that when he wakes up, he would not longer possess the sweet memories that made his existence easier to endure. Those memories he tried to keep hold of were memories of Natasha Romanoff. No blood, no beatings, no screaming, no snow, no yelling, no train. Time with Natasha was the only memory Bucky thought were worth to treasure.

Because Natasha Romanoff is Natalia Romanova. She was different, but somehow still the same.

To him.

* * *

For the first time in months Bucky and Natasha trained with each other. They fought powerfully; punches were thrown and blocked and kicks elicited groans. A metal hand seized the neck while acrobatic turns and graceful flips confused and asphyxiated the opponent. Extricating was a simple process, evoking irritation from the attacker. With every rapid shot, a pant followed dutifully. Sweat rolled down focussed faces as the clock ticked by. No, this was too basic for the ruthless assassins. Widow bites were tossed, temporarily paralysing the soldier. But his incredible strength and inconceivably quick reaction-time ruined her strategy. A razor-edged knife: being light on her toes enabled her to dodge his every swipe and stab. They moved across the floor like a pair of dancers. But he was faster; a quick swing to her right and a small incision was made on her arm with the blade. His finesse with knives were impressive to say the least. It stung, but it didn't stop her in the slightest. After a safe distance away, she observed him. The foe stared at her wound. Apologetic. Red painted the fabric of her sleeve as blood continued to ooze out. She looked at it for the first time; Natasha underestimated the size of the laceration. A stitch could be helpful. Decisively, the soldier placed the knife in his pocket. An unusual move during a fight. A halt.

Bucky declared a time-out, finding the first-aid kit. Natasha agreed, deciding a short break would be nice after an hour of aggressive training. She enjoyed it greatly. He cleaned the gash with a delicate touch. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he wrapped a thick white bandage around her arm. Natasha smiled subconsciously, amused by her conclusion that he was more attentive at this little task than the entirety of their training. He fretted constantly, asking her if he was pulling the bandage too too tight. She shook her head at his over-cautiousness. It was beautiful and bizarre to see him capable of destruction, yet be so careful and gentle at the same time. They rested, revitalizing themselves with water for round two.

"You know," Natasha said thoughtfully, "Fury probably would let us train the newly recruited SHIELD agents if we asked him. What do you think? The Winter Soldier and Black Widow. We just gotta make sure we don't scare them too much." A echo of laughter trailed at the end of her idea.

"Wouldn't be the first time I teach someone how to kill," Bucky noted. Natasha understood the incidents of his harrowing past implied in his nonchalance. He wasn't just Hydra's slave. He was a Soviet superior at some point as well. A teacher on the arts of warfare.

"You're a good man, James," she murmured. If only he could remember how much good he tried to do, even as Hydra's weapon. No matter how much they tortured him, they could never destroy that part, because goodness was an intrinsic part of his very being, and that part would always stay with him. Even though he'd convinced himself that be deserved to be punished for his crimes, that he was a bad person- even if he failed to see his own inherent quality- she would never stop reminding him.

He stared hard at the gun clenched in his metal hand. How many times had he used a similar weapon and aimed it an an innocent face? "No, not really," Bucky glanced sideways at her with a strained expression, "but you're the only one who understands that."

"You and me. We're made of the same stuff. I just hide it better," she told him. He believed her. It was strangely commiserating.

The edges of his mouth twitched, hinting at a small smile. Natasha Romanoff had a unique way of helping him. He'd see her interact with others differently, a tougher form of comforting. A bored expression and then a monotone borderline sarcastic comment followed by an eye-roll. She told Sam to "get over it" when he delivered a heartfelt monologue about his non-existent love-life, and gave Barton an indifferent shrug when he got shot in the leg one mission. Natasha sighed exasperatingly when Wanda started an emotional vent about how much she missed her dead brother, and stared blankly when Vision opened up about his insecurities about being an android.

Steve advised him not to talk to Natasha, sheepishly citing that she may not be the most comforting of all people. Bucky nodded without much thought. He wasn't exactly the most comforting people wither. But they developed a unique way of being sympathetic towards each other without a hidden sense of pity. He liked her succint advice, her rare smile, and most of all, she knew what he felt without him even talking. He hated the false understanding people pretended to hold when he talked to them. It was like talking to a therapist; they never truly understand. But Natasha does. But sometimes he wished he could believe her when he told him he was a good person. When they visited the museum together, he'd never seen her talk so much. Her eyes bright and non-stop chatter about how great he was. Howw great Bucky Barnes was and still is. It was like listening to Steve talk all over again. He wished he could trust their words. At some point he did. But the flashed of red blood dripping, clatter of weapons and nightmares full of screams flung him back to square one.

"Thank you... Natalia."

Hearing her real name from his lips stunned her. She examined him, smothered in a semblance of sudden confusion, odd worry and utter surprise. It was as if the name accidentally slipped out. But Bucky's anticipating expression indicated the opposite. Natasha took a deep breath, as quietly as she could, to calm the sudden spike in her nerves. Bucky's body slowly turned to her, a knowing look glowing in his eyes. It was impossible to recover her slip-up in composure, it was already ingrained in his memory. She swallowed as he stood up in front of her, full height.

"You know me." It was an irrevocable statement. His eyes gazed deeply into hers, as if challenging her to say anything different.

She folded her arm, looking back firmly. "Yes, I do," Natasha answered with subtle tone of relief.

"Why didn't you say anything?" There was a broken edge to his voice that matched a hue of betrayal in his blue eyes. Natasha felt a surge of hidden guilt unleash inside her.

"You had to find out yourself." Natasha avoided his piercing stare, suddenly finding the wall behind him more fascinating.

"Dammit Natalia," Bucky growled darkly. "I had a right to know! It was _**my** _ history too. **_My_** life. Why didn't you tell me, huh? What if I never remembered? Would you still hide it from me, Natalia?"

Natasha looked up, a glint of regret and desperation in her eyes. There were times, many times, she wished she could just blurt everything out. Tell him about the Red Room, tell him about their missions, tell him about their time together, and how much he meant to her- how much he still does. But there was a memory that instantly shut down any incentive she mustered to do all it:

 _The Soviet handler pulled her arm as he walked quickly. Natalia knew there would be bruises afterwards. She tried to walk fast behind him, but his grip and force on her body was too strong for her physically drained body to oppose, so she gave up. He lead her downstairs, further down to a level she had never entered. As they took each descending flight of stairs, the lights shone less brightly, and the building look older. This lower floors were strictly off-limits, unless you were a high-ranking scientist or a handler. Her heart bat faster with a combination of anticipation and dread._

 _He lead her down a dark corridor. She could hear their heavy footsteps, mechanical whirring, and the sound of her breath panting from exhaustion. After several rooms, he pushed a metal door open, and releasing his tight grip on her forearm as he threw her unceremoniously on the cold ground. She pushed herself off, rubbing a hand on the red mark it left, shooting his insanely exuberant face with a silent glare._

" _You vanted to see your lover, yes? There he is, my darling," he announced, a mouth forming a delirious smile, taking delight as fear suddenly engulfed her face, her green eyes laced with uncertainty._

" _Hydra will not be happy when they find out what their precious soldier did. I can't imagine what they will do to him. Poor thing," he taunted. "You, unlike him, should consider yourself lucky girl. Lucky indeed. Perhaps they spared your life because you are best Black Widow. You are of much use. To us. But, Natalia Shostakova, your husband-"_

 _His speech was drowned by a deadly silence that surrounded Natalia's mind. Her wide gaze fixated on a large metal object that had pipes fitted through it. Next to it was a monitor displaying the internal vitals of a human being. Her feet dragged her body towards the object; it somewhat resembled to a chamber. Her face blanched as her eyes focussed on a face behind the glass. Her breath trembled erratically as a excruciating mixture of fright, guilt and terror flooded inside her. Natalia's mouth fell open, staring at the frozen face behind the window pane. Tears welled up in her eyes instantaneously, her hands automatically clamping over her mouth as a shriek pushed it's way out. She recognised him._

" _What have they done to you!?" Natalia whispered, unadulterated horror permanently covering her face. She stared as James's blank face, only a layer of ice and machinery preserving his life._

 _James's eyes were close, his strands of hair still and his lips in a thin line. He knew they were going to do this to him. He was ready, she mentally concluded. A strangled sob tore through her, unable to contain the massive lump in her throat. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to forget the horrendous image she just witnessed, allowing her tears to freely stream down her face. It was her fault he was in this state. She could have prevented this from happening. He didn't need to suffer more than he already had. She should have done something. How was she so stupid?_

 _A callous hand grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks. It hurt, but not as much as the emotional trauma that ached every part of her being. He forced her to look at his sadistic face._

" _This is what happens when you show weakness," her handler pulled her face towards the cryogenic chamber forcefully and then back to him, her eyes red from the crying. "Love is for children, you silly little girl. Remember that and it will do you better."_

 _Natalia nodded meekly, her body tired and numb. They don't have a choice. She doesn't have a choice._

Natasha had suppressed any deep romantic inclination towards anyone, after all "love is for children" was imprinted in her mind after that fateful day where their secret was discovered. What if continuing this relationship was wrong, what if something worse could happen to him because of her. Were they destined for a tragic love? Could she allow herself to go through the same heartbreak again?

"It ended, Barnes. What w-we had doesn't exist." She was scared. Scared that they would be ripped apart again. Scared because she didn't know what she would do if she lost him again. It was irrational, but the scars of their separation hadn't fully healed. A heart-wrenching reminder off her past. She liked pretending she was fine. Too pretend that her past doesn't prick her. To pretend that she was happy. But she couldn't pretend with Bucky.

"Bullshit," he muttered almost immediately after, "that was because of Hydra and the KGB." He reached out for her arms. "We have a choice now." Bucky's optimistic smile was contagious. In that instant, he looked just like her James.

Natasha didn't try to resist when his warm hand wrapped around hers, finger entwining. He pulled her gently towards him, and she became captivated by how clear and exposed his eyes were. They were normally unfathomable, unreadable, and his emotions were always tucked away in the deep depths of cold blue. Yet, Bucky was willing to take of his neutral mask for her. In that moment, Natasha lost the energy to cruelly remove Bucky's hand from hers. She lost the weak intention to walk away; she lost the expert ability to lie, refuse, and not feel anything.

She could no longer stay numb.

The metal hand in her hair was dangerous; a product of destruction. But Natasha had never felt so safe. Bucky stayed like that, not wanting to exert any sort of force on her. If she wanted to leave, he would respect her choice and let her go, painfully so. But to his glee, she grasped his collar with her other hand, pulling him down closer to her mouth. He hungrily responded, his body molding over hers in a perfect fit.

His body surrounded her like a steel cage, yet she'd never felt more free. Like a bird soaring past the highest cloud. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax in his arm, relishing the sheer heat of their lips pressed together. As the intensity increased, her worries drifted into oblivion.

The Winter Soldier: a programme, an experiment, created to send people to their graves; give out their untimely deaths. Just like her. But here, Natasha felt more alive than ever. Electricity shot through her, a passionate jolt of warmth that melted the icy walls around her heart. The achingly familiar smell of faint rust entered her nose, and she remembered the same sweet taste of his lips as clearly as if it was only yesterday she had kissed him.

A ruthless monster and a ghost story, they said. But he was her saviour; her unlikely hero. A prince she found in the pits of hell suffering alongside her. It sounded so cliché, and so unlike Natasha Romanoff, but in this beautiful, beautiful moment she didn't care.

She didn't care about anything, except the intoxicating love rushing through her veins. James remembered her, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. There was no Hydra, no KGB, no rules, no punishments to break them again. There was no fear hindering their love. She and James were together, and to Natasha that was all that mattered.

"Am I interrupting something?" The archer awkwardly announced. Well, if it wasn't the KGB or Hydra breaking them apart, probably be Clint Barton, Natasha thought humorously. "I just wanted to try out the new archery range, but if this is a bad time..."

They broke apart reluctantly after what seemed like hours. Natasha grinned as Bucky threw him a death glare that seemed to shrink Barton. Somewhat intimidated by the possibility of suffering the wrath of the two Russian super-spies and super-assassins, and overall the scariest people he has ever met, Clint quickly back-tracked and retreated from the gym. Satisfied with his disappearance, Bucky leaned down and captured her lips once more. She cupped his face with her hands, melting once again in his strong embrace. Natasha Romanoff got the happy ending she didn't expect.

Perhaps fate wasn't so cruel after all.

 _Scars fade, but a remnant always remains._

 _You simply need someone to realise they can be healed;_

 _someone who's willing to be your unbreakable shield._

 _Cruel games are often played by fate,_

 _long and sad years the test makes you wait,_

 _so that it can find your loving soul-mate._

 _He's standing with open arms in the harsh rain,_

 _A smile graces your face;_

 _it makes you think..._

 _maybe it was worth the pain._

* * *

 ** **I wrote that little poem myself (just a random burst of inspiration from the story title).**** ** **I hope I delivered a satisfying happy ending to my readers and justice to the characters.****


	8. Ending Epilogue

****"She doesn't love you. She's just lonely."****

"I have an algorithm to finish for the theory I'm working on!" Bruce had announced. His notice was met with an instant chorus of disapproving replies and faces of disbelief.

He feigned a laugh at the childish expressions that overcame his adult friends. They had tried to persuade him to stay a little longer; Stalk telling him vigorously about projects they could collaborate later, Clint ranting on about the rare opportunity of a party, Thor expressing his sadness of his early leave like an eulogy, and Scott persuading him with alcohol (but the poor guy already looked tipsy). Bruce hated to disappoint his friends, but he couldn't seem to maintain his internal calm composure. It was dangerous. His eyes, suddenly sorrowful, rested on a speck of red near the bar and he could feel his emotions crack a little more, but then it was clouded by relief.

"It's been fun, but I need to get going," he sighed, glancing back at his small audience. They patted his back in defeat as he said his goodbyes.

Now Bruce sat on the ground in his lab. The door locked. The machines hummed lowly. Books were shut. Scrunched up papers were overflowing the bin: old research from yesterday. The board where numerous equations were scribbled on, stood abandoned in the corner. His hands grasped his head, while he huddled his knees close to his chest. It was the most relaxing position when his emotions drove him close to the brink of his sanity. He pressed hid eyes forcefully. The room was dimly lit. He didn't was the glare if the light to interrupt his concentration, nor did he darkness to consume him. It lead to a stalemate.

Resentful and angry thoughts criss-crossed with logical justifications. Bright red sparks flashed in his head and he groaned audibly. He could feel the pressure of the situation overwhelming his willpower. Then the red dissipated and everything turned blank. Scenes flashed through his head, like a film. Warm emotions flooded his body, and a strange comfort slowed his heart beat. Scenes of him teaching Thor how the toaster works; pulling an all-nighter with Tony in the lab, who is the only person who loves science as much as him; laughing alongside Clint.

Red invaded his mind once again. The red coalesced into a someone's hair: Natasha. She was inching close to him, a hint of desperation in her eyes. He gaped, a bizarre feeling of apprehension mustered inside him, creating confusion. As sympathy filled his senses, the desperation was replaced by a malicious glint.

"You're a fool," she whispered hauntingly, her mouth curling into a smirk. She pushed him back, uncharacteristically strong, and Bruce fell on the floor. Shock coloured his face a shade of pasty white as she winked mockingly. Realisation hit him: he was just another hapless fly trapped in her beautifully-spun web.

Swiftly, his opened his eyes, red tainted the whiteness. A bead of sweat trailed down his forehead. It wasn't true; that memory played out differently, manipulated by betrayal. Though admittedly, that would have been less painful than to have found out now.

What betrayal? Bruce's logic countered belatedly. _Nothing was ever confirmed. You were the first one to leave. It's your fault._

Maybe it was. But she shouldn't have initiated it at least if she didn't mean it. Natasha shouldn't have played on his emotions. _It was also partly her fault,_ he reasoned weakly. He unwillingly thought back to what transpired mere hours ago.

Bruce Banner had stayed in India for a few months, helping the poor who required medical help for free. The Hulk wasn't needed for internal SHIELD missions, only the missions that are a threat to humanity. The Hulk was a destructive force Bruce couldn't control. It made sense for him to use his knowledge and position as a doctor to help the less fortunate. Though it was somewhat fun working with Tony, after the Ultron fiasco that resulted the devastation of Sokovia, and his temporary "visit" on Asgard, he decided he wanted to go back under the radar again and return to a quiet part of his life. Somewhere where Bruce Banner would be appreciated, not the Hulk. This strained his and Natasha's already ambiguous relationship. When he arrived back at the Avengers Facility, that was when the rumours started circulating around him. The whispers and deliberate looks. The anxiety that was brewing in the pit of his stomach heightened once Fury promoted Black Widow and the Winter Soldier as the new training officers for the novice agents. They were both Level 8 agents now. And then, the jesting and the teasing from Sam to Bucky about Natasha. Clint's casual bursts of information about the pair ("Gym's off-limits. Apparently when I told Nat and Bucky to get a room, they took the gym instead.") And seeing the two constantly together, as if they were attached from the hips ("Where's Agent Romanoff and Barnes? Fury asked with an aggravated sigh, glancing at the current Avengers around the table. Just then the couple entered through the doors. "Are we late?" Barnes asked, unsure. "Damn right. Get your ass on a seat.") And Natasha. Her demeanour was different. Brighter. Her truest smile only reserved from one exclusive person. That person was no longer Bruce Banner.

Natasha was wrapped in someone's arms, her face beaming brighter than he had ever seen her. She let out a soft laugh as Bucky twirled her around, her hands eventually finding a home on over his shoulders. He reciprocated her joy with a chuckle as they swayed together beneath the dazzle of bright lights, gentle music assisting the romantic ambience. Even though there were other several couples dancing as well, they were unique pair. They danced like they had danced together their whole life. Like they had danced a million times. It was natural, elegant and... intimate. Her silky blue dress moved gracefully as he guided her with charm and finesse he could never begin to imitate. Bruce's lovable awkwardness could never reach Barnes's level of timeless debonair. But Bruce didn't detest him- no, he was never the one to hold irrational hatred against others- but he would be lying if he said he wasn't envious of him. Deeply envious.

Bruce stood still in a bewildered daze, not expecting himself to react so horribly when seeing them together. Natasha and Barnes gazed at each other, a gaze that was held without either one blinking once. As if by a invisible force, Bruce looked away sheepishly, feeling as though he were intruding on a private moment. He shifted his feet uncomfortably and took a unnecessary huge gulp of alcohol from the glass that was clutched in his hand.

The burning sensation was a good distraction from the lump that grew exponentially in his throat. But it was only temporary. He stared dolefully at the liquid- this was never a solution to anything. He would never resort to such. Why was he overtaken by such horror so quickly? He should have expected so long before. Bruce couldn't fathom why he still bothered to cradle the fragile hope close to his heart.

A strong, friendly slap on his back broke his despondent reverie. Startled, he jumped back, only to see Steve. Worry outlined on his face and he internally cursed himself for being so obvious. "You okay there?" He asked, frowning.

"Huh, er yeah. Of course!" Bruce replied with a false grin, taking a sip. "I don't normally go to parties, but Tony really insisted I come. It's a good change from looking at statistics and physics all the time. Nice...nice music and all." He raised his glass. "Everything's good. You?"

Much to his dismay, sSteve's expression did not change, except his eyes reflected pity. He saw through his lie and saw the sadness in his brown eyes. Bruce sighed tiredly. He was never a good liar any ways.

"She didn't mean it, you know that right?" Steve said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved dismissively, although sadness constricted his throat at the seriousness behind his words. "I get it. She never-we didn't... there was never an 'us'. It was nothing."

A pang of dejection washed over him as he confessed his secret nightmare. His delicate affection shattered into a million pieces as he absent-mindedly glanced back at her, captivated by her exuberance. If only she had ever looked at him even a fraction of that.

"She was just lonely, lost and afraid." Steve stated softly, following his despairing stare. "Hydra was in fact the organisation she had trusted. It broke her. And I didn't even know she knew Bucky at the time."

 _I'm still lonely_ , he added silently as the corner of his mouth twitched ruefully. The truth left a viciously bitter taste in his mouth. "And now she's now," he muttered, watching Natasha take a dip in the middle of their dance. He attempted to smile, but it was difficult. "Any more."

Unbeknownst to Bruce's unrelenting heartache, Steve couldn't help but grin at the couple. Steve was always loved Natasha like a sister, and to see her truly happy with someone who he fully trusted made him feel like a proud older brother. And who better than the one person who was like family to him, the person who he'd trust with his life with?

"Don't worry too much about it," Steve advised. "Look who's here."

Bruce turned to see Sharon. She sauntered over, her blonde hair in a sleek up-do and a red dress which had soft ruffles near the bottom. Steve gave her a loop-sided smile, scanning her from top to bottom; he liked red dresses. "Hey Bruce," she greeted, "you don't mind if I steal Steve for a minute?"

"He's all yours!" He exclaimed dramatically, inwardly grateful at her request. He stepped away from him jokingly. It was time to leap away from the topic.

"Where are we going?" Steve asked cautiously, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"To dance," she answered as-a-matter-of-factly, gesturing to the couples slow-dancing.

His eyes widened with more fear than any enemy could instil, "B-but I can't! I can't dance!"

"I'll show you!" She giggled at his terrified face. He'd never looked this frightened when facing an enemy. Who knew the one thing that could inflict such palpable fear into the mighty Captain America's heart was dancing? "You'll be fine."

Bruce stared longingly as Sharon dragged a reluctant Steve to the dance floor. He was clearly uncomfortable, but Sharon didn't stop assuring that his efforts were great as she glided him with her. Beside them, Natasha laughed endearingly at his clumsy actions. She indicated to Bucky at the arrival of the new pair, who guffawed in response.

"Don't break her toes!" He teased the nervous wreck, earning a playful glare from Sharon.

Maybe someday Bruce have something like them.

He spotted Tony with Thor in the distance. Tony and Thor seemed to be having a heated argument (which the most serious one they ever had was about microwaves) while Pepper and Jane were engrossed in their own discussion. It was time to stop standing like a lemon and maybe enjoy the party. Bruce eventually found out that they were arguing about drinking. Thor bloated he could beat Tony while Tony strongly disagreed, staring a lengthy anecdote of his college days and that one time in Las Vegas. Bruce sided with Thor, earning a gasp of betrayal from Tony.

The science lab was still, unlike the vibrant atmosphere of the party. A hot tear slid down Bruce's cheek as he clenched his fists tightly. He glared at the lab's pristine floor. Someday? Who was he kidding? The only woman who had accepted him was Betty Ross. And he hadn't spoken to her in almost ten years. She could be married for all he knew. He regretted leaving her and not bothering to contact her at any time. He thought he was protecting her, but he was just punishing himself.

Music could be heard echoing from several floors below. Loud, funky, bright clashes of sounds built up to a thrilling tune; a beat that cried entertainment and fun. He could imagine his friends challenging each other to a dance-off. The Avengers laughing and sneering at each others' goofy moves whilst arrogantly boasting they could do better. He could imagine Tony urging Pepper on, but her reply was a sharp "no" because he was so drunk he couldn't stand up straight, so he slumps back into his stool with a petulant pout. Clint and his wife are doing a classic country dance while Thor introduces Jane to a unique Asgardian dance. Even Maria Hill accepts Sam's invitation with a grin after his not-so-subtle persuasion (he was on the brink of begging). Sam had finally caught her attention after so many weeks of trying to ask her out. Even Steve joined in. He gained more confidence, performing a spontaneously complicated routine with Agent Thirteen; Sharon was a naturally brilliant dancer herself. And Bruce could also imagine Natasha's arm around Bucky's, huddled closely as they judged their competition, formulating a plan to annihilate the their opponents' routine with their unmatched talent.

"Aggressive Russian ballet?" Natasha breathes close to his ear in a suggestive manner.

"They're not ready for that," he whispers back with a risqué smirk.

"I think Steve and Sharon are our main competition," she mutters, watching the pair with a keen eye, "I think we could beat Clint and Kate."

"Stevie's better than before, that's for sure," he notes, "Thor and Jane look pretty good. You don't think we're underestimating them?"

"Maybe, but Wilson and Hill are in their own bubble. Looks like they forgot about the dance-off." Sam lead Maria away from the Avengers, probably using the competition as an excuse to be with her. "I didn't even do any match-making. Must be fate 'cos Hill's a tough one."

"Sam has a huge crush on her," Bucky comments with a raised eyebrow as Sam throws him a discrete thumbs-up.

Bruce's hand fell by his side, almost lifeless. His eyes were normal, though they looked sunken. He didn't have an algorithm to finish off.

He did that last last week.

 ** _END_**

* * *

 **You could say I'm a Maria/Sam shipper ;) I thought Bruce's perspective is very important to make this story fit well with what is currently canon in the MCU. Constructive criticism appreciated and reviews are loved. So make me smile and drop a review or advice :) Thanks for reading, especially those who have supported with me through the writing.** **شکریہ!**


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